


Sweetest Candy

by skyjoos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Brutality, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Cruelty, Dark Tony Stark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, Extreme Child Rape, Extremely Underage, Halloween, I'm Going to Hell, I'm serious don't read this, Innocent Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Pedo Tony Stark, Pedophilia, Peter is 7, Rape, Tony is 37, Vomiting, Yes you can judge me, anal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 10:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyjoos/pseuds/skyjoos
Summary: Tony hates Halloween. It's the one day of the year where his urge is too great. He typically locks the door, turns off the porch light, and hides from any kids knocking on his door for candy.But then Tony opens his door to see Peter.And that all changes very quickly.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 271
Collections: Finished faves, Z Peter/Tony





	Sweetest Candy

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Extreme, hardcore child rape of a seven-year-old boy is exactly what this fic is. It's intense, it's triggering, it's not fucking child's play. Please proceed with extreme caution and don't hold me accountable for any mental damage done. 
> 
> You've been warned.

Halloween has always been a dreary day for Tony. A thirty-seven-year-old man with no family of his own handing out candy to the local kids trick-or-treating is just sad. He stopped sitting out on the porch in his twenties and stopped leaving the bowl on the porch with the light on a few years ago. He’s seen the looks parents give him, even on days outside of Halloween; parents holding their children tighter because they’re in the presence of a strange, unknown, older man, glaring at him as he tries to politely comment on the kids’ shirt or toy.

But Tony doesn’t blame them. In fact, he almost thinks he’s too obvious. Tony loves kids, as most do. They’re cute, say the strangest things, and don’t care what anyone thinks. Tony admires them, as all should. But Tony is different from the usual adult. Tony doesn’t just like kids, he _fantasizes_ about them. He hasn’t settled down with anyone because he knows no one could satisfy him like a child would. It’s sick, and he knows it. And he’s not ashamed of it.

Tony’s long accepted his dark desires. It started when he a teen who worked part-time at a local summer camp for boys in baseball. His job was an assistant camp counselor, and for three weeks he had to make sure the boys at the camp were taken care of. At nineteen years old, he saw young boys naked nearly every day. From getting dressed to showering to changing into their baseball gear, Tony got to see four to eight-year-olds naked daily. Suffice to say, he jerked off behind the counselor cabin for the majority of his time working there.

Halloween is the one day of the year that children voluntarily come to his door. To make it even worse, they’re asking for sweets. It takes Tony all of his strength not to tell them all about the something sweet he could have them suck on. So naturally, Halloween is the hardest day of the year to control his urges.

But Tony does the best that he can; Lock the doors, turn off the porch light, even hang a sign up. He’s a sick freak and he knows he’s not strong enough to hold himself back. So, on October thirty-first, he locks himself away from the world, puts on headphones to distract him from the excited shouts from happy kids outside, and watches illegal child porn on his computer. Tony knows the porn is another evil, but it’s better than actually raping a kid.

Tonight is like any other Halloween night he’s had for the last twenty years. Tony spends the evening hours watching horror films from the eighties on cable and gorges himself on candy and popcorn. He has to turn the volume up on the television to drown out the sounds of a happy little girl somewhere laughing on the sidewalk just a few feet away from him. He immerses himself in the films and doesn’t stop eating until his doorbell rings.

Tony ignores it. The lights not on, there’s no candy in a bowl, and there’s a sign on the door exclaiming in bold black marker, ‘NO CANDY, SORRY.’ He lets it go and returns to watching Friday the 13th, the very first one where Jason isn’t even the killer released in the late seventies. Tony smiles at the nostalgic movie and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth when the doorbell rings again.

“Take the fucking hint and leave, kid,” he grumbles to himself.

Tony takes the remote in his greasy hand and dials up the volume. He watches as poor Marcie Stanler is chopped with an ax, her beautiful young face screaming for help as her head is nearly split in two by the ax. Tony rolls his eyes at the cheap and silly acting of a girl who probably got paid nothing to be in such an icon horror hit. The doorbell’s ringing ends his criticism and Tony groans.

The man pulls himself up from his recliner and hurriedly rushes to the door, about to tell the little shit off. He sets his bowl of popcorn on the chair and takes the few steps towards his door. He rips open the door, making a show that he’s unhappy. Looking back at Tony is a young, _young _boy. He’s about to scream at the boy before he meekly blurts.

“Trick-or-treat!”

The boy’s head lifts up and he raises his pillowcase for the sweets. Tony’s breath hitches in his throat. The boy, who can’t be more than eight years old, is beautiful. Curly chestnut hair that curls around his adorably large ears that support his brown cowboy hat. Pale skin that only heightens the pinkish color of his cheeks and nose. God, his nose. Small, petite, and almost doll-like. Below his button nose are a set of red lips pulled into the cutest smile Tony’s ever seen on a kid. And the part pulling it together are his eyes, honey-colored and blown by the excitedness of asking a stranger for candy.

Asking a _bad _stranger for candy.

“Hi,” Tony lamely says.

One thing about kids that Tony loves is that they don’t need a pickup line or a flirt to start talking to a stranger.

“Hi. Happy Halloween!” Says the boy.

Tony smiles. A real, genuine smile crosses his face because it’s Halloween and there’s an adorable cowboy on his front porch almost begging him with his eyes to take him inside and have Tony show him how grown-ups really thank each other on Halloween. Tony shakes his head. No, no, _no. _That’s a real kid in front of him. A child with parents and a family and a life ahead of him. He can’t do that to a kid. Not a real kid, he couldn’t.

But something feels _right. _Like if he wanted to,_ really _wanted to, Tony could get away with this. No, that has to be the sugar and fat running through his blood from all of the junk he’s eaten making him think that. Nothing about this could be right, not when his thoughts are so terribly _wrong _in every sense of the word.

Tony’s about to tell the boy he has no candy and to go find another house. But he can’t. He can’t ignore what could be the best night of his entire miserable life. He smiles, somehow even wider than the first. Tony gestures to the child’s costume.

“We don’t get too many cowboys in these parts,” he jokes.

The boy smiles and excitedly nods his head. He lets his pillowcase no doubt full of candy rest on the porch. He reaches behind him for something attached to his belt. Tony leans over to get a closer look at the boy’s hand as it touches his tiny, _so fucking tiny, _hip. He whips out a cheap-looking plastic fake rope and waves it in front of the man.

“Look! I have a lasso, too! To catch bulls with.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome. Catch anything yet?” Tony asks.

Tony wants to scold himself. Why is he indulging himself like this? Anyone on their porch or walking with their kids can see him talking and wanted to _fuck _a little boy on his porch. Tony looks out at the neighborhood around the pair and raises his eyebrows. Not a single person’s out on the streets. Or on the neighboring porches. He checks again and again, but there’s no sign of anyone. The boy’s words catch him off guard and he leans back, his body not having left the threshold of the door.

“No, Aunt May says there’s no bulls or stuff here so all I’ve caught is my dog. But he didn’t like it very much.”

Tony swallows his building spit, or rather his building drool. The boy is beautiful, too innocent to be out this late. It must be past nine at the very least, there’s nobody on the streets for Christ’s sake. Tony turns his head to squint at the cable box clock and sees that it’s 9:48 at night, definitely beyond trick-or-treating hours. Especially for a boy this young.

“I bet he didn’t. Uh, say … Why’re you out still? Isn’t it a little late to be trick-or-treating?” Tony asks.

The boy below him shakes his head. “My aunt said I could only be out ‘till seven but she was asleep when I got home. So, I kept trick-or-treating. Only babies go home early.”

Tony can’t believe his luck. A desolate neighborhood, a sleeping caretaker, and a cute boy ready and free and oh so fucking _fuckable _right in front of him.

Tony indulges this even further. “Why is asleep so early? Seven’s early, even for an old geezer like me.”

The boy laughs and it straight to Tony’s dick. The adorable sound coming from such a cute kid sends him awkwardly bucking his hips. He hides the arousal with a fake cough and keeps smiling at the child who quickly answers his question.

“She’s very busy, she works at a hospital. She must not get paid lots though because we’re not very rich,” states the boy.

Tony laughs and shakes his head. Kids and their unknowing need to spill all of the details about their personal lives. Tony goes even further, solidifying this fantasy as a reality as he crouches down to meet the young boy’s gaze.

“That’s very cool. What’s your name, buddy?”

The boy doesn’t miss a beat. “Peter.”

Tony smiles even wider. Pretty Peter. A sitting duck, a sinful apple, a tempting drug. Being so much closer to him gives Tony a better view of Peter. Big doe eyes stare back at him. His round pink cheeks are still full of baby fat. He looks younger than Tony initially thought. He wants to make sure of the fact, so he asks.

“Hi, Peter. I’m Tony. How old are you?”

“My birthday wasn’t that long ago. It felt like it took forever and ever but now I’m seven and not six anymore!” Peter happily exclaims.

Tony has to grip the baseboard on the door to stop him from ruining it all and taking the kid right then and there. A freshly seven-year-old boy on his door looking like _that _telling him all about himself and how happy he is to be so young and Tony can’t let this go. There’s no one around, no one will know, it’ll be so fucking easy, and he could it right now. Fuck the feds, fuck his aunt, fuck the neighborhood, fuck Halloween and fuck everything.

Tony smiles.

“Wow, you’re a pretty big boy now, Peter. You know what? I’ve got some really special candy I save for the older kids since it’s the good stuff. Don’t want to give away full-sized chocolate bars to the babies. But you’re not a baby, Pete. And I’d like to give you some of the big boy candy.”

The look on Peter’s face seals it; Tony’s going to take him and ruin him tonight. He smiles that adorable smile that makes Tony’s pants tighten. Peter nods his head and leans down to grab the previously discarded pillowcase and grips the fabric tight.

“Yes, please! That would be awesome, Mister Tony!”

Tony licks his lips. It can’t be this easy. “No problem, Pete. Come on inside and I’ll you where I hide the best candy.”

Peter literally jumps at the prospect and happily beams at the man he doesn’t know is about to ruin his life. Tony looks around one final time before standing up straight and stepping back, letting the young Peter walk right into his trap. No one on the street still, no one coming out to see a man approaching his forties welcome a seven-year-old boy into his home.

The second the boy steps his foot into Tony’s house, he nearly faints. He can’t actually be luring a child into his home to rape him. This is far beyond anything he’s ever dreamed of being possible. Fantasy be damned, he was stepping into the unknown and going in deep.

“What are you watching?” Asks Peter.

Tony follows the boy’s gaze to the television, still playing Friday the 13th in all of its cheesy, gory glory. He shrugs and walks over to grab the remote to mute it and tosses the remote back on the recliner, nearly throwing it into the bowl of popcorn.

“It’s just some old movie. It’s bad anyway. Let’s get you that candy, Pete.”

Peter doesn’t object when Tony’s hand falls on his back and pushes him towards the stairs in the corner of the living room, leading to the basement of his row home. Tony flips the light switch at the top of the stairs, illuminating the kitchen and backroom below. He almost trips over the boy when he doesn’t take the first step with him.

“Wait, Mister Tony. Where’s the candy at?”

Tony pats his back reassuringly. “It’s down here, in my backroom. I have to hide it from the little kids, remember? Don’t worry, Pete. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Peter, the innocent, helpless child that he is, follows Tony down the stairs. Tony’s never felt a walk down the stairs take so long in his entire life. Every step feels like another year added to his sentence, another sin he’s committing. When the two finally reach the bottom, Tony reaches over and opens the door, revealing his backroom.

He’s a single man living in a row home neighborhood that’s supposed to be for families with children. He has a lot of space. There are three bedrooms in every home built this way, four if you include the backroom. But Tony doesn’t need it to be, so he uses it as a random room filled with boxes, an old desk, laundry machines, and an old couch. He leads Peter inside and shuts the door behind him.

“Sit right there on the couch,” Tony instructs.

Peter obliges blindly, sitting his small body on the faded green couch that’s nearing a decade old. Tony stands before him and takes it in again: His plaid button-down covered with a small brown vest, blue jeans, cowboy boots and hat, and his belt with the plastic lasso reattached. Peter looks up at him, calm but confused. He tilts his head to the side in adorable childlike wonder.

It’s too much for Tony. He takes a deep breath before sitting next to the boy. Peter moves away, not entirely sure what’s going on but realizing Tony doesn’t have any candy. The boy goes to speak, inching further away from the man on the couch.

“Uh … Mister Tony, I … I wanna go home now, please,” mutters the boy who phrases the sentence like a question.

Tony chooses to ignore the small boy’s pleas. “Here, let me take this bag. It’s gonna be full of candy later.”

Tony reaches towards the boy and grabs the faded white pillowcase from his hands. Peter pulls away, tightly gripping the case and leaning away from Tony. Tony frowns. He doesn’t want to hurt him. This would be much easier if Peter would just cooperate and give him the damn pillowcase. He tries again and Peter gives out a tiny protest.

“No,” he starts. “Mister Tony, I wanna go home. I have to go home, my aunt’s waiting!”

Tony sighs. Of course, nothing can ever be easy for him. He tries one last time to remove the case from Peter’s hands and pulls it so hard it rips the opening seam of the case. Peter lets the case go and stares helplessly at Tony. It only causes his already hard cock to twitch in excitement.

“I thought you said she was sleeping? I don’t like liars, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head. Tony can see the fear escalating in the boy and it almost makes him cum dry. But he swallows his arousal. He’s not going to orgasm before he’s even touched the kid. He watches Peter’s scared eyes as he frantically scans the room, as if his aunt would miraculously be there and save him.

“I’m not a liar! I need to go! I have to go home,” Peter pleads.

Tony places the pillowcase full of candy on the cement ground of the unfinished room. A terrified Peter tries to sit up. No way is Tony letting that happen. He quickly grabs the boy’s shoulder and forces him to sit back down on the couch. Tony’s already come this far, he might as well dive all the way in. He’s always sat at the pool of sin’s edge, when Peter came to his door, he dipped his toe in, he currently has his foot in, and tonight he will_ finally _dive right in.

Peter shouts. “Let me go! Help!”

Tony has to put an end to that. These row homes are directly next to each other. Christ, he shares walls with these people. He quickly covers Peter’s mouth with his hand and uses the other to pull him in close, whispering in the child’s ear.

“Shut your fucking mouth or I’ll slit your throat, you annoying little prick. Let me fuck you and I’ll think about not driving to your house and murdering your aunt and your dog and then fucking you over their dead corpses.”

Peter, of course, begins to cry. Tony observes as tears roll down the boy’s face and tiny muffled cries come from his sinful lips. Tony thinks the kid gets the idea, even though he wouldn’t actually murder some random bitch and her dog. He removes his hand from Peter’s mouth and gives a sinister look at the boy, one that tells him that Tony _will _hurt him if he doesn’t obey. Tony might not murder his family, but he is going to hurt Peter.

Peter doesn’t speak when the hands are removed. He just silently cries as he’s manhandled by Tony. Tony’s rough hands move to the collar of Peter’s button-up shirt and slowly undoes each button. Every button adds a lifetime of guilt. But Tony doesn’t care. He’s waited his entire life for this moment. Once the shirt is finally opened, he pulls both the shirt and vest off of the crying boy.

“P-please, M-mister. I-I-I wanna go home. Don’t _hurt _me.”

Tony smiles. It’s a sweet little plea. Begging him not to hurt him. Tony can’t contain what it does to his cock, it’s already rock hard and threatening to leak. Tony throws the clothing on the floor on top of the pillowcase. He drools at the sight of Peter’s exposed chest. So small, undeveloped, and pale. His nipples barely even visible yet, just two small spider bite looking nubs that excite Tony beyond his years.

His skinny, slim shoulders, collarbone, and arms. The way his skin looks like buttercream. The enticing hairless, young, _so fucking young, _body before him is the highest level of pleasure Tony’s ever seen. He hasn’t even touched the naked boy yet, but he knows the second he does he’ll cum from the sheer arousal Peter’s causing him to have.

Tony breathes heavily as he slowly moves his hands down to fiddle with the button of the child’s jeans. After a moment, he finally has the thing open and pulls down the zipper. Peter lets out a genuine, purely fear-filled cry. He’s never been so fucking scared in his life and the fact that it’s Tony who’s making him that fearful is the greatest thing imaginable to him. In one swift movement, Tony rips down the boy’s jeans and pulls off the costume quality boots with it.

A seven-year-old boy is sitting next to Tony on his couch in his basement in nothing but his underwear and a cowboy hat. This is everything Tony has ever wanted in his life. A crying, beautiful boy begging to be let go nearly sitting on his fucking lap. Wait, what a great idea. Tony’s hands wrap around Peter’s middle and he nearly cums right there. His hairless, flawless skin beneath Tony’s fingertips is enough to drive him insane. With a little bit of effort, he forces Peter onto his lap. His tiny body rests on the aging, plump figure of Tony’s.

Peter’s shaking by the time Tony’s taken a minute to get used to having a near-naked child on his lap. The boy’s entire body shakes in fear. Tony rests his hands of the trembling boy’s shoulders and takes in the fear he’s causing.

“Have you ever seen grown-ups make love, Peter?” Tony asks.

Peter isn’t a dumb kid. He knows immediately what Tony means and Tony can see the fear double in his eyes. He shakes his head and beautiful tears drop onto Tony’s shirt.

“N-n-no,” says the crying child.

“Well, it’s a very common thing that lots of grown-ups do and it’s –“

Peter interrupts. “I know w-what it is. Don’t make me d-do it!”

Tony clamps his hand over Peter’s mouth once more, sneering as the little shit screams into it. Tony takes another approach and uses his hand to slap Peter’s face. He’s stunned for a second, a brat as well mannered as him has probably never been hit before in his life. But he falls silent.

“What the fuck did I say? I’ll fucking split your head open if you shout again,” threatens Tony. “Now, let’s start making love just like grown-ups do.”

Tony moves his hand to rest above the tiny bulge in Peter’s blue childish underwear. He steadies himself as he pulls them down, moving Peter’s legs to slide them off fully. It reveals something Tony hasn’t seen up close since he was a teenager. A young boy’s underdeveloped cock. Tony smiles. The boy’s balls haven’t even dropped yet.

“But, But … I-I-I’m not a gr-grown-up,” Peter whispers.

Tony exhales in awe of the boy’s exposed member. “Oh, I know, Pete … God, I fucking know.”

Tony doesn’t have time to waste. It must be past ten by now and the boy’s aunt could wake up at any minute and notice her nephew is missing. Tony shakes away the fear and quickly shoves in his index and middle finger into the boy’s open, humiliated mouth. He uses the other hand to grab Peter’s tiny cock and palm it.

“Bite down and I’ll rip your little birdie clean off,” Tony says.

Peter gives out a meek cry as Tony plays with the small member in his palm. Peter’s cock is nothing more than a small nub with two tiny testicles not yet hanging beneath it. Tony runs his finger over the slit of Peter’s dick and smiles when it causes Peter to jump.

“Did that feel good?” The man asks.

Peter just returns to crying as he’s forced to suck on the digits of the man. Tony rolls his eyes and again runs his thumb across the inch length of Peter’s prepubescent cock. After another moment of admiring the fact that there’s a child’s cock in his hand, Tony pulls out his fingers and places them under the underdeveloped balls of the boy.

Tony pushes Peter back until he can see his tiny, _pink and tiny and rapable, _hole. The sight alone makes his own hips buck. He places the now wet with saliva fingers at the boy’s entrance and watches the fearful look on Peter’s face turn to sheer terror. He whines and tries pushing Tony away, much to Tony’s annoyance.

Tony’s tired of playing games and taking it slow with the child on his lap. He shoves the slick fingers into Peter’s virgin hole. It’s so tight, tighter than anything he’s ever shoved anything into before. The intrusion causes Peter to scream. Screams so fucking loud and ear piercing that Tony almost screams from the suddenness himself. Tony lifts the boy’s body up and slams him down on the couch, the roles now reversed and Tony on top of him instead. He turns Peter around, facefirst into the couch’s aging fabric. The fast action causes his cowboy hat to fall to the floor and Peter to give a strangled, horrified cry only a child could give.

Tony heaves from the action, his body not used to such rigorous activity. He leans down and whispers directly into Peter’s ear.

“I was going to do this nice and slow. I was going to treat you right, make you feel good. But you ruined your chances of that, Pete. I was gonna have you ride me like the little cowboy you are, but you’ve lost the privilege. Stupid fucking kid.”

Peter sobs into the couch, his voice now muffled by the furniture. Tony leans back to reveal his own cock, having the use of both hands now that Peter’s mouth is effectively gagged, and his ass is no longer being penetrated by his fingers. But Tony smiles at the knowledge that soon, Peter will be filled with something much more sweet.

Tony doesn’t waste any time, he lines his cock up to the slightly still slick entrance of Peter. And _slams _into him. Tony’s surprised a child even has the room to take him in their rectum. But he’s not mistaken when he sees his cock full force push into Peter so powerful, it rips the top muscle of his anus. He hears a desperate cry from below him but ignores it and continues raping the boy.

Tony slams his cock from tip to base over and over again into Peter’s no longer virgin hole. With every thrust, his cock feels looser and looser and Tony has to look at the sobbing child’s ass to see it ripping from both sides. Beautiful streaks of crimson blood flow from Peter’s hole as Tony nonstop fucks it.

Tony’s never been so fucking _deep in_ someone before, let alone a child. He can feel his cock hit the intestinal tract of Peter’s colon and the knowledge that he’ll likely never to be able to properly shit again fills Tony up with a confidence he’s never had before. He repeatedly barrages the small boy’s tiny hole with powerful thrusts until he feels his dick getting red hot from the friction.

Tony pulls all the way and before slamming back into the traumatized boy, Peter turns over and vomits on the cement floor. Tony shoves the kids aside as soon as he’s done to see the damage and snarls. The dumb, bratty kid just puked all over his basement floor. He slaps Peter’s upturned face, receiving a pained whine in response.

“You fucking punk! Look at this shit! Fuck!” Tony shouts.

Tony jumps up from the couch and just nearly misses the pile of vomit on the floor with his foot as he walks out of the back room and into the kitchen. He quickly searches the messy kitchen and finds a dirty hand towel he can use to clean up the now stinking vomit. When he comes back to the backroom, he sees a naked Peter trying to weakly climb on top of the dryer in the corner of the room. His tiny, trembling hands nearing the latch on the basement window.

“Get down!”

But the terrified boy doesn’t listen. His arm stretches out and finally, his tiny fingers curl around the latch. Tony runs across the room and slips in the child’s vomit. He curses to himself as he picks himself back up, just in time to see Peter hurl the window open and put his head outside of it. His lips part, readying to scream for help as his not even his tiny body could fit through a window that small. But Tony grabs him before he can and hurls the child across the room, who lands on the hard cement.

Tony groans and heaves himself onto the dryer to hurriedly close to the window. When he turns around, he sees a broken, helpless, beyond terrified Peter still hyperventilating on the floor. Tony snarls.

“You little shit. You’re going to regret that,” he says as he crosses the room.

Peter tries to back up, but his weakened body fails him and sends him sputtering on the floor. Tony’s quick to grab him by his curly brown hair and thrusts him upwards, the young boy’s face inches from his own infuriated, sweating one.

“You fucking puke on my floor and try to leave me?” Tony spits. “Fucking brat.”

Peter cries, a shrill whimper escaping his throat. “No! Pl-please, please, _please. _I’m s-s-s-sorry.”

Tony chuckles, his rage consumes him as he brings the child back to his knees. The entire time, he never lets Peter’s eyes leave his enraged stare. Once they’re back on the floor, he smiles. The man who once forced himself not to rape children. The man who hid from the public because he knew what he was capable of, has finally broken out of his shell. He’s unleashed the true evil inside of himself, and Peter’s at the brutal force of it all.

“No, but you will be.”

Tony slams the child’s face into the pile of smeared vomit on the floor. He hears Peter whine as he squirms from beneath his tight grip on his now dirty hair. Tony grunts as he forces Peter’s ass back in the air, readying himself for another fucking so the man can finally cum. He forces himself in with much less force and tightness as earlier. Tony sighs, of course he’d break his ass on the first raping.

But Tony gets right back to where he left off, pulling out all the way and slamming back into the child with a force so strong, Peter’s body jolts and twitches. Every thrust smears the boy’s face with more of his vomit. Tony can hear the mangled, strangled cry of Peter and every short whine causes him to groan as the pleasure soars through his body.

Tony slams a few dozen more final times until he can feel Peter’s anus finally ripping clean straight. The boy’s backside now split wide open, obviously needing intensive surgery. The mumbled cry Peter gives out as his anus is forever destroyed is what sends Tony right over the edge. He cums deep inside of the child and rides out his orgasm until there’s no more tightness of Peter’s ass.

Tony pulls out of Peter, his ass now more like an envelope than an orifice. He looks down to see his well-fucked member is covered in blood and his own semen. He shoves his cock back in his pants and leans back, admiring the work he’s done to poor Peter.

Shit.

Fuck. Wait. No. How is he going to end this? The police could be here any minute. Peter’s aunt could very well be awake right now and calling the police. And Peter has to live close by, he fucking walked here for Halloween. Fuck, they’ll be at his asking questions while he has a weakened, crying Peter just lying on his basement floor.

Tony watches as a now raped, broken Peter lies silently sobbing into his own vomit. His hands have left the child’s body but Peter’s yet to move. He’s probably too weak to do anything except cry. Shit. Tony runs his hands through his hair and looks around the backroom. It’s not secluded enough here to keep him, but he can’t just let him back out.

As a frantic Tony scans the room, his eyes find something in the corner, underneath his old desk. A wooden trunk his grandmother gave him that she used to put the family photo albums in. Tony’s since given the pictures away to his parents who’ve long since been dead. The photos are likely at a dump somewhere by now and all that remains is the dirty old trunk.

But it’s perfect. It’s just small enough to fit a boy as small as Peter, even easier if he curled up in it. Tony crawls over to the dusty bit of unused furniture and swipes off some dust at the top. He finds the lock after a moment of looking and flips the latch open to reveal a still empty trunk. He looks back at Peter, who’s now turned himself around so he’s not facefirst in the vomit.

Tony’s decided. He’ll shove the kid in here until he can get a hold of Stephen. It’s a longshot, especially since Tony fucked him over last year with the promised child porn he never gave him. But Tony’s sure his equally fucked up friend who conveniently has a doctorate in medical science can fix Peter up if he lets Stephen rape him once he’s healed.

“Hey, kid. Come on, get up,” Tony says.

But Peter only whines out a response. Tony tries again but know it’s no use. He stands up and walks to the pathetic, messy boy. He picks him up and cringes at the poor state his face is in. Covered in vomit and dirt and tears. Tony heaves the boy up and places him on the trunk’s bottom. Peter weakly accepts the position he’s forced into in the trunk. Tony grabs the top lid of the trunk and talks to the boy.

“I have to go clean up your fucking mess. I’ll let you deal with the mess on your face for a while. Hopefully, it’ll teach you not to try any shit like that again.”

Tony slams the lid shut and locks the latch back into place. He waits outside of the trunk to see if Peter will offer any protest, but he doesn’t. The same sinister smile crawls back on his face. A little boy trapped in a trunk in his basement with his ass slowly bleeding and his face covered in vomit. And if he plays his cards right, avoids the cops and sucks up to Stephen enough, it could be like this for a long, long time.

Tony leaves the backroom to run upstairs and grab the mop from the closet to clean Peter’s vomit. When his hand touched the doorknob, he can hear some older kids, most likely teenagers, outside yelling. Tony chuckles to himself. There are still some kids out after all. He leans over to see a group of teenagers roughhousing in the empty street.

Two boys are wrestling each other as a few others look on and cheer and laugh. One of the teens, a girl by the looks of it, playfully shouts to the fighting teens some joke, and it makes the entire group laugh. Tony, with his new instilled bout of confidence, opens his door as the kids walk right by his house.

“Hey! Happy Halloween, you guys!” Tony shouts to the teens.

The group says it back and returns to running and wrestling as the night draws to an end. Tony smiles and shuts the door. Halloween isn’t so bad. Maybe next year he’ll leave a bowl of candy out. Or sit out on the porch. All while his new pet suffers in the trunk. Maybe Tony could even let Peter eat some of the leftover candy by shoving it up his wrecked ass. All while recreating the most gory scenes from his favorite horror movies.

God, Tony loves Halloween.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (late) Halloween! This one goes out to the admins of my DLH server who showered me in support (and ideas) for this fic. I hope everyone had a great Halloween!


End file.
